


And a Shroud for the Warden

by ladymal



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:03:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4636692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymal/pseuds/ladymal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and Dahny are running from something terrible. It hunts them, secrets and misery on its lips that neither know if they will survive. A daficswap fic for playfulclaws featuring their Warden, Dahny Surana, and set during Inquisition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

The Frostbacks were a wasteland of freezing cold. It burned Dahny's lungs with every breath as he dragged himself forward with halting steps. It slipped through every gap in his armor and past the robes beneath. His furred cloak and scarf protected what they could of him but the constant wind wrenched at them with vicious hands. His face felt raw and cracked, shredded from the tiny ice crystals that blew around him.  
  
His foot kicked a rock and he stumbled. Someone latched onto his arm before he could fall, making Dahny startle. He turned his head and squinted— his grip tightening on his staff— but it was only Alistair. Dahny's stomach did a nauseating flip. Somehow, he had forgotten that Alistair was there, struggling in the storm beside him. The roaring gusts buffeted his good ear, stuffing it with cotton and blinding him. It made him feel very alone and drew out time into something thin and painful.  
  
"Dahn—!"  
  
Dahny blinked and raised his hand to brush off the ice that clung to his lashes and crusted over the scarf around his face. Pain flashed and he longed to collapse, cradled by the snow. Everything hurt: his throat, the dark, bloody bruises that wrapped around his swollen wrists and painted the rest of his body like a canvas, but especially his side where large wounds burned. He was so exhausted.  
  
_Geis. Lugh._  
  
Sudden panic chased the fatigue away and made his eyes pop open wide. _Where are Geis and Lugh?_ He looked around wildly but there was no sign of them. _They're lost. They got lost and I didn't help them._ His chest tightened and he felt sick. _Maker, I didn't fucking help them._  
  
A gloved hand touched his cheek and he met Alistair's eyes. They were crinkled in concern and his brow was deeply furrowed.  
  
"Are you alright?" he shouted. Even so close, it was difficult to hear him.  
  
"Geis and Lugh!" Dahny's voiced cracked. "We've lost them!"  
  
"What?"  
  
He looked absolutely baffled and at another time Dahny would have laughed but right now it only chaffed the wound. He'd fucked up bad and he had to fix it before it was too late.  
  
"Our mabaris!"  
  
Alistair's face cleared with understanding but there wasn't the expected alarm or move to action. He searched Dahny's eyes and his lips thinned.  
  
"—fa—eady."  
  
The words were spoken quietly and Dahny frowned. "What?"  
  
Alistair shook his head then raised his voice. "It looks like that head injury was worse than we thought! We need to hurry!"  
  
Frustrated and confused and a little frightened, Dahny shoved his hand away.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about but we don't have time for it. We've got to go look for them!"  
  
He turned but Alistair grabbed his shoulder and forced him back around.  
  
"Maker's breath, slow down!" Dahny tried to shrug him off but it was like trying to shake off an iron clamp. "They're safe, Dahny! You left them at Skyhold!"  
  
That stopped him in his tracks and sent his heart jumping to his throat as if he had missed a step. Dahny lifted his hand to his temple. It hurt viciously, pounding like a drum and accompanying the deep ache that burned in the rest of his body and the shrill, slashing pain in his side.  
  
"They're with Leliana and Morrigan," Alistair continued as the wind died slightly. "Remember Skyhold? A great fortress located in the most inconvenient place imaginable. Has lots of mages and that pithy fellow with the ridiculous mustache that you liked so much."  
  
"I—"  
  
He saw a castle with massive owls carved out of its gray stones. It's gardens were always green and snow never seemed to fall even though the mountains were frozen around it. There was a little boy with dark hair and people he'd known for a long time there and he finally remembered leaving Geis and Lugh behind with them.  
  
"Yeah. Shit." Dahny dug his fingers into his scalp. "Andraste's saggy tits, what's wrong with me?"  
  
"You're going to be alright." Alistair bent and touched his forehead to his own. "We're going to get you out of here and safe."  
  
Dahny smiled weakly and brought his hand to rest on Alistair's chestplate, just over his heart. "We've just got to survive this damned storm, right?"  
  
As if in challenge, the storm decided to pick up again somehow even more brutal than before for the respite and Dahny laughed helplessly.  
  
"You call this a storm?" Alistair shouted with a lopsided grin. "I just can't take you anywhere, can I? A little bit of snow and you—"  
  
He stopped abruptly and looked behind them. His smile dropped and his hand drifted to the sword buckled at his waist. Dahny shifted his stance subconsciously in response, moving to face whatever was behind them head on.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"They've found us!"  
  
Fear spiked in Dahny's belly and the hand that gripped his staff spasmed. They couldn't have found them. Not when he felt they were finally escaping, that they were almost safe. Maybe Alistair was wrong. The blizzard was nightmarish and Dahny had long stopped trying to make sense of anything more than a few feet around him. How could Alistair possibly know?  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Listen! Under the wind!"  
  
Dahny listened, turning his head this way and that to try to catch the elusive sound. At first, there was only the roar of the storm but then the wind reversed and carried with it a distant shriek that froze his heart in his chest. In that scream were voices and hard laughter, metal ringing as loud as bells, an echo of pain— ripping and cutting and _empty_. He wanted to run far, far away but there was nowhere to run to. Only the white nothingness that surrounded them.  
  
"It might not be with them!" Dahny shouted.  
  
Alistair didn't respond— because of course it was— and they waited, tense as stretched bowstrings, for proof. Each heartbeat felt like an age but it wasn't long before it came. A faint scream, long and guttural, cut through the air.  
  
"Maker's balls," he muttered. "We can't fight in this!"  
  
"There's a place where we can hide! We just have to find it! Come on!"  
  
Dahny wondered how he could possibly know _that_ but he had no time to question it. Alistair was shoving him forward until they were as close to running as they could get in the shin-deep snow. The wind whipped around them— hurrying them forward one moment and then wrenching them back the next and always there were the screams. Soft and distant until a gust would bring it loud and sudden into his ear. He would jerk and look over his shoulder but of course he never saw them. But they trailed them and too soon, they would be on them.  
  
The roar came again, stronger than even the wind and he looked up with his heart in his throat, expecting the dragon to be diving towards them with its mouth wide and ready to devour. He couldn't see it but he knew it was there. They weren't going to make it to wherever they were going. It was going to find them and it was going to—  
  
"Here!"  
  
He stumbled to a stop and blinked as a sheer cliff of gray stone appeared through the snow in front of them. It was craggy and dotted with sharp, jutting rocks but it was solid with nowhere to keep hidden from above. He didn't see exactly what they were supposed to have arrived at.  
  
"Um, yeah! Nothing here!"  
  
"Climb!"  
  
Dahny gazed up at the cliff doubtfully but he swung his staff onto his back and began to climb. Once he was high enough, he glanced down to make sure Alistair was following then continued on. His fingers were stiff and the leather of his gloves slippery on the icy stone, making it slow-going. More than once, his feet slipped and he had to scramble to right them before he fell. He kept his eyes on the rock. One hand would find a crevice, then a foot and the next hand, then the other foot until it became a rhythm.  
  
On and on he went, as the howling of demon and dragon persisted in his ear and spurred him higher. Just when he thought that he had to stop or fall straight off the mountain, his hand clutched at a gap that was bigger than any before. He squinted up, hoping for a ledge he could rest on, and almost dropped when he met a face with dozens of dark, liquid eyes peering at him from a hollow.  
  
The creature disappeared and Dahny took the chance to drag himself inside with trembling arms. He stayed crouched at the threshold— his body throbbing and trembling from the effort— and readied himself for a fight but the eyes he'd seen belonged only to a little colony of brown, extremely furry nugs that called the cave home. Sighing shakily, he turned and did what he could to help Alistair over the edge.  
  
They lingered at the entrance, tense and panting as they waited. Wondering if they were safe. The wind whistled, quieter now that they were sheltered by rock. Still, the dragon's appearance was sudden and startling. It flashed by the opening of the cave in a rush of air, its gray underbelly only a few feet from the cliff face. _It knows_. But it didn't circle back to blast them with its strange lyrium breath like he thought it would. It disappeared into the fog and snow with a distant cry and didn't return.  
  
Dahny pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, relief pounding in his chest. After a moment, he sighed and let it fall back to his said. "Maker's wrinkled balls, let's get away from the edge already."  
  
"Maker's wrinkled—" Alistair shot him a wry look. "That never gets old for you, does it?"  
  
"When you get that look on your face?" He laughed weakly. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. "Never."  
  
"What, this look? I call it 'eternal exasperation' and 'pounding headache'." Alistair smirked. "Funny, but it seems to show up most around this one elven mage."  
  
"No, that would be 'loving adoration'," Dahny said as he squinted into the darkness of the cave.  
  
"Oh, that's right. I always get those two mixed up."  
  
"We need some light," he muttered and started to reach for his staff but was stopped by Alistair's hand on his wrist.  
  
"Don't. You need to save your strength."  
  
Dahny raised his eyebrows and extricated himself from Alistair's grasp. "I can do it, thanks."  
He sighed. "You don't remember anything that's happened, do you?"  
  
"What..." Dahny shifted uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"  
  
"We can talk about it later. Just...let me light a torch, alright?"  
  
His mouth twisted into a frown but after a moment, he relented. "Fine."  
  
Alistair crouched and dug into his pack for the flint and torch and in a moment had a healthy flame. The nugs gave a chorus of alarmed squeaks and disappeared as he lifted it high. The cave was narrow but tall. Sharp rocks filled it like a mouthful of teeth that seemed to shift and grind with the shadows. At the back was the beginning of a tunnel, as round and ominous and glistening as a throat.  
  
"Look at that. Nice and cozy."  
  
Dahny huffed a laugh. "Yeah, just like home. Brimming with long, pointy things just looking to run us through."  
  
"You say that like it's a bad thing." He waved at the tunnel. "Shall we?"  
  
"And get lost in some Maker-forsaken hole? I'll pass. How did you know this place was here, anyway?"  
  
"I didn't. Not exactly. On our way to Skyhold last time, we went along this path that went through a half-collapsed cave. Do you remember?"  
  
He did, vaguely. He remembered a cave, at least, and sheltering there for a night but he didn't think Alistair had been there. Maybe it was some other time. In the end, he just shrugged.  
  
"Sort of."  
  
"You were asleep so I explored one of the tunnels and it led me here. When I saw the cliff face through the storm— well, it was mad, I admit, but I hoped we'd find our way to it."  
  
"That _is_ mad." Dahny shook his head. "And really fucking lucky."  
  
"We're due a bit of mad luck, don't you think?"  
  
"We're due a bit of _something_ if the rest of Thedas is to go by." His eyes fluttered closed and his legs almost gave out as sudden exhaustion swallowed him like a wave. "Let's take a break first."  
  
A kiss, sweet and gentle, and a thumb stroking his cheek and he opened his eyes. Alistair was smiling but it had a sad edge. "Not yet, my love. There's not much time."  
  
"Are we in a hurry or something?" he asked with his eyebrows raised. Because if they were, he didn't think there was much 'hurry' left in him. Somehow, the rough stitches that held his side together didn't feel like they had been torn but everything hurt horribly.  
  
"You could say that." Another kiss and he was pulling away and taking him by the hand. "I'm going to make certain you get through this. Just like always."

* * *

  
  
_"I suppose I've delayed long enough," Alistair said, his mouth turned down unhappily as he looked down at him. "I'll miss you. More than anything."_  
  
_Dahny peered over his shoulder as if wondering who he was talking to and seeing no one, widened his eyes is a pretense of surprise. "Me? Really?"_  
  
_That made him smile and it was an echo of the more lighthearted young man he had once been. That young man had gone missing as time went on and grim reality grew ever grimmer. Dahny wondered if he would ever see him again after this._  
  
_"Well, no. Not_ really _. I'll be glad to be rid of you, in fact. It just seemed like the proper thing to say. It being one of those moments."_  
  
_"Ah. One of_ those _moments." He sighed slightly and wrapped his arms around Alistair's neck. "I don't really like those moments."_  
  
_"That's just because you lack a healthy dose of masochism. It's rather sad. There are nights where I just lay there crying from the despair of it."_  
  
_"Well, I'm with you, aren't I?"_  
  
_"Oh-ho, very droll. That's how you send me off then, is it? Cruel mockery and a swift kick to send me scurrying in the direction of the cure."_  
  
_"Not quite."_  
  
_Dahny stood up on his toes and kissed him. He tasted of sharp, rich cheese and Dahny had to stop himself from laughing and crying at the same time._ I don't want this, _he thought as his heart clenched._ Please, please, please just find the cure and let it be worth it.  
  
_He pulled away, both of them gasping for air. "I'll miss you."_  
  
_Before Alistair had a chance to respond, he kissed him again, deeper, longer and with everything he had. When they separated, he leaned forward to tuck his head under Alistair's chin._  
  
_"I love you."_  
  
_"And I love you." His arms tightened around Dahny's waist. "Always."_  
  


* * *

  
  
The tunnel was large and meandering with smooth, curved walls that brought to mind monstrous worms big enough to feed on mountains. With teeth that were huge and strong and horrible. Dahny didn't think such creatures existed but he couldn't help wondering if they'd like fresh meat if they did. _You're being an idiot_ , he scolded himself. Still, he did his best to keep his staff at the ready and his senses on alert as he trudged along, just in case. Alistair had his sword out as well but kept his shield on his back so that he could carry the torch.  
  
"So," Dahny said and flinched as his voice echoed against the stone. Lowering his voice, he continued. "This exit you mentioned. Shouldn't we have found it by now?"  
  
"Quite a while ago, actually."  
  
"Maybe we should head back." His chest tightened, making him gasp and then the feeling was gone. He swallowed and rubbed at his chest through his armor. "Take our chances out in the open."  
  
"No, there's a way out and it's close. I'm sure of it."  
  
Somewhat exasperated, he huffed. "Let me guess. You had a dream and a friendly spirit showed you the way."  
  
Alistair shot him a sideways glance. "Got it in one. And it wasn't so much a 'friendly spirit' as a 'spirit that made fun of me for being in my knickers'. I'm always in my knickers in my dreams, you know. All of the spirits just point and laugh and I can never get anything done. Very embarrassing."  
  
"I find that hard to believe." He smiled and looked up at Alistair's face. "I've actually seen you in your knickers. Wouldn't mind seeing you in them now, in fact."  
  
"So you can point and laugh, too? I don't think so."  
  
"Damn." He snapped his fingers. "I thought for sure you'd fall for it this time."  
  
A bit of... _something_ clung to the ceiling but it shrunk away as the torch passed beneath it. Dahny eyed it suspiciously until he had sidled around it. He could do without strange smelling cave gunk dropping on his head.  
  
"Hah! Not a chance. I'm wise to your tricks."  
  
The smell grew stronger and riper as the _something_ became more like _somethings_. They shone, wet patches against dry stone. As they walked, the patches grew until they covered the rock around them floor to ceiling.  
  
"What is this stuff?" Dahny asked with a curl of his lip. It was spongy and slick and it stuck to his boots even as he struggled not to lose his footing. "Some sort of fungus?"  
  
"Something horribly disgusting, I'd wager." Alistair's brow crinkled and he brought the torch close to a spot. It began to shrivel and disappear and foul black smoke rose in faint curls. "And look at that. I was right."  
  
The substance nearest the fire was gone in moments, leaving behind bare stone in a rough circle. What was left look almost like a layer of spider webs but with thicker, translucent, reddish black strands that glistened organically. Dahny had never seen anything like it before but it reminded him of something. The idea lingered like an itch he couldn't quite reach.  
  
"Does it smell like—" Dahny cut himself off with a frown.  
  
"Like what?" Alistair asked carefully.  
  
"I—" He shook his head— _dark, cold with air that smelled of filth and bodies and something bright and clear and alive_ — and the thought was dashed to pieces. "Nothing."  
  
"Ri-ight," Alistair drawled as he quirked an eyebrow. "Well, I don't think this stuff is anything natural. It's— Get down!"  
  
Dahny dropped to the ground instantly as Alistair did the same. Something large sailed over them and landed with a weighty skittering several feet away. In the dim light, it was a shadowed mass with a dozen gleaming black eyes and a bizarre segmented mouth that was full of curved teeth and flanked by massive fangs. A pair of skinny arms just above its two legs ended in clawed, skeletal hands. It watched the two of them, its flat head swaying at the end of a long, thick neck covered in bristly gray fur.  
  
Grunting, Dahny peeled his hands off of the strange webbing and scrambled to his feet. Alistair was already up and had let the torch fall so that he could use his shield. The flame flickered erratically but still burned. Alistair stood between him and the creature, his stance defensive. Dahny edged to the side, trying to get a clear shot, but Alistair kept moving with him.  
  
"Damn it, Alistair," he snapped. "Get out of the way."  
  
The thing was making guttural hissing sounds that rose and fell almost like speech. Its hands reached toward them and flexed, making Dahny shuddered. _Creepy_.  
  
"Not a chance," Alistair snarled, startling him slightly. "If I can't fight it off, you run. Understand? You run and don't use your magic _unless you absolutely have to_. Try to remember. It's the only way you'll find the way out."  
  
"Not going to—"  
  
The creature leaped, heading straight for Dahny, but Alistair caught its head with his shield. It stumbled and crashed into the wall, giving Dahny a clear shot. He started to cast, frost gathering on his staff, but stopped as Alistair lunged into his way. His cry of frustration caught in his throat as the creature's tail— whip-like and barbed— lashed out. Alistair raised his shield but it staggered him. The thing sprung forward. A light flashed white and gold and brilliant, and they were plunged into darkness.  
  
  
  



	2. Part Two

_The Warden that held the knife to Alistair's throat died first with a spear of ice piercing the side of his skull. Next it was the mage who was turning— a spell on his lips— but Dahny was faster and he slammed him into the wall with a blast of energy strong enough to shatter every bone. By that time, Cassandra was charging with a fierce cry and Varric was unleashing Bianca and Solas and the Inquisitor were casting and there was no one left to kill._

_Dahny ran over to where Alistair had fallen to his knees with a hand clutching his throat as his chest heaved. His heart beating hard enough to bruise, Dahny dropped down in front of him and covered his hand with both of his own._   
_"How bad did it cut you?" he demanded his hands already glowing the ethereal blue of healing magic._

_Alistair let out a breathy chuckle and his teeth flashed into a slightly wild grin. "Not at all, actually. I'm just a little stunned from my uncomfortably close brush with death. That was awfully timely of you."_

_Dahny's heart stuttered with relief. After a moment, he let out an unsteady laugh and let his hands fall. He tried to ignore how terribly they shook._

_"That's me. Hero of the hour. Knight in shining robes. There should be a statue dedicated to me." He should stop but if he did, he was sure he would cry so he let himself keep on. "Oh, yeah. There is. Then a city named after—"_

_Without warning, Alistair pulled him into a fierce hug and Dahny immediately shut up. His staff clattered to the floor as he wrapped his arms around him. Tears leaked out of his eyes and he told himself it was only because he'd ended up biting his tongue._

_"Happy to see me?" Dahny asked, his words muffled from his face being smushed against Alistair's chest plate. It was hard and hurt his nose and the old blood that had been crusted onto it had gotten in his mouth but he didn't care. He was finally whole again._

_"Happy doesn't even begin to cover it," he said, his voice thick and for Dahny's ear alone._

_Leather creaked and metal jangled as someone shifted behind them and they pulled apart. Dahny could feel the tips of his ears pinken but it didn't matter. They helped each other back onto their feet and squeezed each other's hands before letting go._

_"So," Alistair raised an eyebrow at their group before settling his gaze on the Inquisitor, "taking down the Wardens, are you?"_

_"They're working for Corypheus. We had no choice."_

_"Oh, I'm well aware of what they've been up to," he said bitterly. "Probably better than you do. You could say that my capture and subsequent imprisonment has given me a personal showing. Which is why you can count me in."_

_She dipped her head into a nod. "We could use all of the help we can get."_

_"Excellent." Alistair rolled over the corpse of his fellow Warden with his boot and stripped it of its sword and shield. "Let's go. I'm ready to be done with this place."_

_As they filed out of the hall, he held Dahny back with a gentle hand on his elbow. He shot a glance at the others before leaning down and kissing him. It was short but desperate from long months apart._

_"I love you. So much," he said as he rested his forehead against Dahny's. "When the knife was at my throat, I was certain that I would never be able to tell you that again. I could say it a thousand times a day for the rest of our lives but it would never be enough."_

_"I love you, too." Dahny eyes burned and he blinked. "And, Maker's sweaty balls, that'd better not be the last time you say it."_

_His eyes crinkling with his smile, Alistair stepped back and unsheathed his sword and gave a nod for Dahny to go ahead of him._

_"Wouldn't dream of it."_

* * *

Dahny's staff blazed unexpectedly bright with cool, clear light. Spots danced across his vision and he quickly dimmed it. The creature lay unmoving across Alistair, blood dripping down the sword through its neck. _Be okay. Be okay. Maker, please._ Dahny's ran over and tried to shove its body off of him. The thing blinked, startling him, and hissed wetly. Dahny snarled back and used a blast of energy to sending it sailing a few feet down the tunnel. It landed with a heavy thud and a gargling shreech then lay still. Alistair groaned as he was freed.

"Alistair?"

Grimacing, he sat up. "I'm alright." Another groan as he climbed to his feet. "Mostly."

"Andraste's giant— fuck— _shit_." Dahny dug the heel of his hand into his forehead. His glove was covered in a film of muck that burned his skin but at the moment, he hardly cared. "Don't _ever_ fucking do that again."

Looking at the lit staff, Alistair blinked and grew still. "Dahny, you need to put out the light. Right now."

"Damn it, Alistair! You could have _died_. All because you want to wrap me up in cotton like some sort of child! I can handle myself. I _don't_ need protecting."

"I know. Believe me. And that's not what this is about." Alistair put up his hands placating. "I'll explain everything but you have to cancel the spell."

There was a flicker of shadow at the corner of his eye but when Dahny looked there was nothing there. He shook his head. "Explain what? What's going on?"

"Maker's breath, Dahny. Just _trust me_."

He scowled but with a thought, the light was gone. "Tell me what's going on."

"You won't like what I'm going to say," Alistair said as the torch flared to life. "All I'm asking is that you hear me out. I didn't—"

He kept talking but Dahny had stopped listening. There was a noise coming down the tunnel. At first, he couldn't place it— animals, the wind through cracks in the stone, maybe— but then it came again and he shuddered with fear. The clink of metal. Groaning and screeching soft as whispers. Harsh voices almost too quiet for him to hear. _It can't be. How could they have known we were here?_

"They've found us," Dahny whispered, his eyes wide and darting. His hands trembled and he clutched at his staff. "There's no way out and they've found us."

"Dahny," Alistair said but it was like hearing him under water— warped and muffled— and Dahny couldn't seem to focus on him for longer than a moment. "Dahny, look at me. Did you touch—?"

The air was getting colder and he shivered, hunching in on himself. It reeked now. Like bodies and lyrium. Metal and blood. He covered his nose with his sleeve but he couldn't get away from it. It was a part of him, seeping out of his pores. His heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest and he realized he was panting but he still couldn't _breathe._

Alistair had a hold of his face now, demanding his attention. "Dahny, you're fine. It's not real. None of it is real."

Dahny shook his head hard enough to make his neck twinge. Why would he say that? Couldn't he smell it? It was so strong now. And couldn't he _see_ it? The tunnel around them was changing, shrinking and straightening as the natural stone turned to walls. A wood door was forming out of the darkness, a ribbon of torchlight shining beneath it. Whimpering, he slammed his eyes shut. _Don't look at it. Don't look at it and it will go away._

"No, it isn't. They're trying to make you think it is so that it will be. Listen to my voice." In a distant corner of his mind, he could feel Alistair stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. Their breath mingled as he leaned his forehead against his. "Open your eyes and look at me, alright? Just me."

He didn't want to but Alistair was there. Alistair would keep him safe. Slowly, he opened his eyes to a world that was falling. Spinning and falling and turning in on itself until it disappeared into something horrible that he wished had been left forgotten.  
"Hey," Alistair said gently and he dragged his eyes away from the shadows that darted around them. He didn't think Alistair's eyes had ever looked so golden before. "I'm the only one here remember? Just keep looking at me."

Dahny swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded.

"I love you," Alistair told him. "Always and more than I'd ever thought possible."

"I love you, too."

"I'm sorry," he whispered then kissed Dahny's forehead. It left tingling warmth that he wanted to rub away but his arms had grown stiff and heavy and he couldn't have moved them for the world. " _Remember_."

* * *

It was like dreaming but not. He knew that Alistair was carrying him and that they were running but it was the memories he could see. It was the memories that were important.

_The dragon's rumbling breath throbbed in Dahny's ear as it stalked towards them. A flash of movement on his bad side and he glanced over. Alistair was shifting closer to him, his sword and shield held warily. Somehow, Clarel was still alive and was rolling onto her back as it walked over her. He steadied himself as the dragon's muscles bunched— readying for a leap— and it was at the last moment that he realized what Clarel was doing. His eyes widened and he could only let out a shout of warning before the dragon sprung and lightning boomed._

_There was a scream like the earth itself had split open. Something heavy knocked him to the ground as the dragon tumbled in the air above them. It was like being under a flying mountain and Dahny very reluctantly raised his head once it had passed. It frantically tried to right itself as it went over the edge of the ruined bridge. Its tail lashed out as its wings strained and it went plummeting into darkness._

_"Shit." Dahny climbed shakily to his feet. "After surviving an archdemon and_ that _thing, I think we've finally used up all our luck, Alistair."_

_His comment was met with silence and he looked around, uneasy. He'd expected a quip or a laugh or something because that's what he and Alistair did. But Alistair was missing and sudden panic surged. There was a deep, sinister rumble that rippled through his very bones but he hardly noticed._ He didn't. He couldn't have. Not after everything we've been through. He _wouldn't._

_"Where's Alistair?" he demanded to no one and everyone and no one had an answer but the groaning of the stones. "Alistair!"_

_There was a noise beyond the edge— the clatter of tiny rocks as someone's grip shifted— and he leaped forward but someone immediately jerked him back. Furious, he almost pushed them off with a burst of ice but the ancient structure beneath them shook and cracked like thunder. It was all he could do to keep on his feet as whoever it was bellowed into his ear._

_"The bridge is collapsing! You cannot save him! You would only be ending your own life!"_

_Massive blocks of stone were crumbling like clods of dirt only a few feet from him. Another brutal yank on his arm— hard enough to make his shoulder howl with pain— and he was running. He was running but he didn't know why. Alistair was behind him. Clinging to life. Trapped. Waiting. Needing him to—_

_Alistair's dead._

_The thought hit him harder than any dragon could. He couldn't breathe and he could taste vomit in the back of his throat. His legs faltered but it didn't matter. Between one step and the next, the ground disappeared out from under him and he was falling, falling, falling into a nightmare._

* * *

Other memories flashed by. Landing in the Fade with the Inquisitor and her team. Meeting the Divine who wasn't the Divine. Fighting the Nightmare and being left behind. Doing what he could to save the others. He had saved them and even gave the demon a vicious wound as a parting gift but it hadn't been enough to save himself. Lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. The Nightmare healing him— humming and chuckling as its mouthparts clicked— and taking him to a place that was crafted just for him.

_His cell was dark. Solid, unrelenting blackness that gave birth to ugly, tortured shadows in the shape of people. There were no windows or cracks in the stone to leak even a breath from the sun or moon. There was just a strip of torchlight that lingered beneath the door and gave him only fear._

_He would stare at it as time bled away into nothing. Watching and waiting. It would flicker and his breath would catch. It would split into three and his heart would stop until whoever was on the other side came in or moved on. It was a game of theirs, he knew, to get what they wanted from him. Terror. Hopelessness. To take everything he was until all that was left was the fear. He knew it but that didn't mean he could stop playing._

_The smell was the worst— worse even than the cold that cut— because there was never any relief. It was always there and so strong that the tower could burn to ash and he was certain he'd still smell it. Rank bodies and old blood. Filth and sharp metal and underlying it all was the lyrium, bright and clear and alive._

_The light under the door was brighter than usual. Dahny shifted uneasily and the chains that secured him to the wall rattled. It grew even brighter as he watched until it was a clean white that hurt for him to look at. He turned his head away, tears streaming down his face, and that was when the door exploded._

_Not into sharp, wooden splinters and twisted metal like he would have expected but into pure energy that rained down over him like dust. The shackles around his wrists and ankles vanished as it touched them and he dropped to his knees with a short cry. A pair of boots stopped in front of him and he scrambled back, his heart in his throat. But whoever it was didn't try to hurt him. Instead, they crouched down and offered him a gloved hand._

_Dahny looked up and sucked in a quick, painful breath. "Alistair?"_

_As soon as he said it, he knew it was wrong. He was in the Fade— left there so that others could live— and Alistair was dead._

_"No." 'Alistair' smiled sadly. "Only someone that's going to get you out of this awful place."_

_"And go where?" he rasped as he curled his arm around his side. Maker's balls, did it hurt. "To some other nightmare? Yours?"_

_"I'd never hurt you, Dahny." The soft expression on the spirit's face was so like Alistair that his heart twisted and he had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from crying. "I swear it."_

_There were noises coming the hall beyond his cell— screeches and the clacking of armor. He hesitated; fear twisting in his belly, but the sight of a long shadow twisting in the torchlight decided him. Anywhere else would be better than here._   
_He clasped the spirit's hand with his own. It was battered and filthy, black grime crusted around the nails, but 'Alistair' only gave it a comforting squeeze and began to glow like the sun. White and gold, edged in delicate pink. It filled the room, melting the shadows, until the nightmare shattered and he was free._

* * *

When he came to, he was being cradled as strong fingers were combing through his hair, slow and soothing. It wasn't the real Alistair— only the spirit pretending to be him— but Dahny still didn't want to move. If he moved, he wouldn't be able to hide from it anymore. He would have to accept that Alistair wasn't with him and wouldn't be, ever again. He wasn't ready for that to be true. He would never be ready for that to be true.

But somehow the spirit must have known that he was awake because it had stopped. He could feel its lips— distressingly, achingly familiar— brush the top of his head in something that wasn't quite a kiss. And then it was pulling away and leaning him up against a rock. Dahny let out a slow, shaky breathe. His injuries had gotten worse while his was unconscious and Andraste's hairy ass, did they hurt.

They weren't in the tunnel anymore but in a small cave, its entrance completely blocked by a wall of softly glowing snow. A little colony of nugs— the ones from before? — were curled up together nearby, their dark, shiny eyes fixed on him. The spirit sat across from him, close but far enough away that they couldn't accidentally touch. Dahny's breath fogged the air and filled the silence and when he saw it, he blinked. _How did I never notice that he didn't breathe?_ Because of course it didn't. Why would a spirit need to breathe in the Fade?

"Because you believed I did," the spirit said gently and Dahny peered at him through his hair. "This is the Fade. Everything is shaped by belief and will, especially when it's something real."

"Who—" He caught himself with a twist of his lips. "What are you?"

"Two heartbeats in the dark and the light that lived between them. " 'Alistair' looked at him sadly. "The last thoughts of a man who was certain he was going to die."

"Love," he said and the word was like a knife twisting in his chest and scraping him hollow. "You're a Spirit of Love."

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked, almost choking on the word. "Why _him_?"

"Because he loved you." It's voice was soft and earnest as if he could ever doubt what it was saying. "More than anything."

Dahny blinked as his eyes stung. _I know. That's what makes this so hard._ Alistair was gone even though he was right in front of him. Both alive and dead and Dahny wanted to hold him, kiss him and never let go and throw up at the same time. Being in the Fear demon's nightmare had been terrible beyond imagining but being out of it was something else entirely.

"I'm sorry. I never wanted to lie to you but you forgot and I couldn't—" It cut itself off and Dahny could see its throat bob as it swallowed. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Because of what's wrong with me?" he asked, gesturing carefully. His left glove had gone missing and it revealed a hand swollen and purple with bruises that he had no idea how he'd gotten. "Not all of this is from...what they did to me."

"No." Sighing, it shook its head. "You don't belong here. Physically in the Fade, I mean. What you are will eventually fall apart without something real to keep it together. Giving you a part of myself so that you would remember...only made it worse."

"Are you saying that I'll _die_ if I don't find a way out?"

"I don't know exactly what will happen but I don't believe that you'll die like you would out there. I think you'll...become something else."

Dahny was silent. What was there to say? That he didn't want to die or whatever the fuck was happening to him? He didn't but since when did what he wanted matter? He _wanted_ to be home. He _wanted_ for Alistair to be there waiting for him. There were a lot of things that he _wanted_ but was never going to have.

'Alistair' started to reach out as if to touch him but hesitated when Dahny tensed. It's expression twisted into something pained and it looked away. His stomach coiled into a knot but he couldn't take it back. He just couldn't.  
Dropping its hand back to its side, it continued talking as if nothing had happened.

"We're safe, for now. The nightmare knows where we are but I can keep its servants out for a while longer." It glanced over at the group of nugs as they squeaked and twitched their ears in apparent protest. "With the help of a friend."

"What happened?" Dahny asked. "Did it find us because I used magic?"

"Not quite. It didn't help but it was a minor spell and you only kept it up for a short while. Mostly, it was because you touched the fear."

Dahny furrowed his brow. "I don't understand."

"The webbing in the tunnel. It was fear. Gathered up from all of their victims by that demon we fought and...concentrated. After you touched it— do you remember how the Fade began to change?"

_Stone into walls and a door with a ribbon of torchlight._ "Vividly."

"Their fear became yours and you started to recreate the dream, bringing Nightmare to us." It twisted its mouth into a grimace. "Fear is contagious that way."

"So, what are we supposed to do now?"

"I made a promise that I would get you out of here. And I intend to keep it," it said grimly, a hard edge to its voice. "Preferably before any permanent damage is done. So it's going to have to be soon."

"Tell me the plan isn't to fight it. Because I don't see that going well for either of us."

"For one us, anyway," 'Alistair' raised an eyebrow, "but I don't plan on fighting. You weakened it— that was the only way I was able to break into your nightmare in the first place— but it's older and much more powerful. Especially, since this is its domain."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning I can't change it. Only our place in it. There's a rift nearby. It's what we've been trying to reach since the beginning. I can take us there now that we don't have to bother with staying beneath the Nightmare's notice. We'll be followed. I doubt we'll have more than a moment but it should be enough to get you through."

"Don't plan on joining me in the real world?" Dahny asked caustiously.

"I don't think there's a place for me there," it said with an expression of careful neutrality.

It wasn't an answer but if the spirit ended up being dangerous, he would just have to deal with it when it happened. "Then let's do it. Get this over with."

Dahny tried to stand— his body screaming— and immediately pitched forward as the world spun sickeningly. Before he could hit the ground, the spirit caught him and settled him on his feet with an arm around his waist. His stomach flipped and he peeked up at it through his lashes.

'Alistair's' mouth was turned down, his brow furrowed with concern. When he looked into the amber eyes he knew so well, it was to see the love he always did. _I'm never going to see that love again_. The realization took his breath away. _This is the last time I'll ever be close to him_. Maybe it was wrong of him but he suddenly didn't care that it was only a spirit wearing Alistair's face. That it was no more real than a dream. _I don't care._

So instead of stepping away, he let himself lean against him for support. Alistair hesitated a moment then pulled him into a hug and tucked Dahny's head under his chin. His chest was still but Dahny could hear and feel his heartbeat, strong and steady as a drum.

"I know it isn't the same," Alistair said, his voice low. "That it could never be the same but it's not so bad, is it?"

It wasn't bad, at all. For a moment, he was home and he and Alistair were both safe and this awful nightmare faded into nothing.

"Right." Alistair cleared his throat and pulled back to be able to look at him. "I don't want to risk trying to heal you but I can lend you some strength. Just enough to get you through the rift."

"Alright."

Gentle as a breath, he held Dahny's damaged, gloveless hand. Flowing warmth started to form between them and it reminded Dahny of laughter and calm days in another's arms. As the glow spread through him, the pain shrunk away and strength began to return to his limbs. He felt better than he had in ages— light and unbound as if he could float straight into the sky. He let himself grin, savoring the feeling, and Alistair returned it, small and pleased.

"Are you ready? It won't last long."

"Wait. My staff." He glanced around but it was gone. He chewed on his lip uneasily. "I need my staff."

"This is the Fade." Cocking an eyebrow, Alistair gave him a teasing look. "You do know what that is, don't you?"

Dahny rolled his eyes. "A place where smart-mouthed bastards like to be, last time I checked."

"Oh, good. For a moment there, you had me rather worried." He ran his thumb over Dahny's knuckles and grew serious. "Once we're at the rift, I want you to promise me that you'll run straight for it. Don't stop and don't wait. Just run."

Smile dying, he shrugged a shoulder. "I don't plan on sight-seeing."

"Promise me, Dahny," Alistair said, a slight scowl darkening his face.

He pressed his lips together unhappily but gave in. "Fine."

Shoulders relaxing, he nodded. "Be ready."

At the last second, Dahny turned to the colony of nugs. "Thank you."

They trilled and for an instant he saw a woman's face, her large eyes liquid brown. Then he blinked and the nugs and little cave were gone.

* * *

They were back outside in a valley surrounded by towering mountains and knee-deep in snow. The blizzard had stopped, leaving behind eerie stillness. Cold air settled over them like a fog—foul-tasting and laborious to breathe. A rift was twisting and glinting in the gray sunlight only paces away.

"Go!" Alistair barked and shoved him towards it.

Demons were already beginning to appear around them. Screaming terrors and fearlings in the shape of bloodcrows circling above and other horrors he hadn't the names for. Dahny leaped forward but he couldn't seem to reach it. Each step he took, the rift jumped farther and farther ahead. A sob caught in his throat. _It's there. It's right fucking there. Maker, I'm so close._

It was Alistair's hand on his elbow that finally brought him to a faltering stop, his stomach leaden. The demons were crowding close, hissing and shrieking, but not touching. Not yet. In front of them, the Nightmare was stepping out of the air, its massive body too big to see all at once. Its eyes rolled wildly and its mouthparts clacked almost disapprovingly. When it spoke, its servant became quiet and still.

"You and your spirit friend have led me on a merry chase," it said, its voice silky. "But now I have found you and it is time to come home."

Dahny shuddered in disgust as dark memories lingered around his thoughts. "I'd die first."

"Now, why would you say a thing like that? There is nothing in the real world for you, Dahny. Or have you forgotten that Alistair is dead? That the Wardens have turned on you?

"Here, you have someone who loves you," it purred and if it could, Dahny thought it would be smiling. "You can keep it if you like. Love can turn into the most frightening things when you motivate it properly."

"You can't have him, demon," Alistair said and his hand slipped into Dahny's. "And you can't have me."

"Do you truly think you can stop me? A spirit of love, weak and insignificant, and a frightened little boy of a mage?" It laughed— rumbling and threatening. "I have fed for centuries upon centuries. There is nothing you could keep from me if I so wished it."

"We'll see about that."

In an instant, Dahny and Alistair were behind the Nightmare and in front of the rift. Then Alistair blazed with light and Dahny was flying backwards into the rift. The Nightmare roared, its servants howling with it, and a demon clawed open Alistair's throat. The last thing Dahny saw before disappearing into the rift was Alistair shattering like a mirror, bits of energy glittering like falling stars.

* * *

Going through the rift was like experiencing the end of the world. Like every inch of him was being taken apart and put back together. It was frightening and sickening and Dahny thought he might go mad before it was over. But then he crashed into snow-covered ground hard enough to leave his chest shuddering and throat gasping for air he couldn't find.

He lay there on his back, staring at a steel-gray sky as shimmering black spots crowded his vision. His lungs stuttered and he sucked in a breath so quickly that he coughed and almost vomited. With a lurch, he got himself onto his trembling hands and knees. Whatever strength Alistair had given him was gone but the rift was still open, a gaping wound, and he had to get away from it.

_Get up._ He got up. His legs felt as unsteady as a newborn's but he was up. Snow had worked its way inside of his armor and left him shivering. His cloak was gone and he remembered that it had never been real in the first place. Just another trick of the Fade.

Wetness trickled down his cheeks and he pat at it with numb fingertips. _Snow. It must have gotten on my face_. It continued to flow but Dahny ignored it. He couldn't think about it now. If he did, he would think about seeing Alistair—

_No_ , he stopped himself short. _Get away from the rift. Find shelter. Figure out a way to survive_.

Slowly, he began to walk. He wasn't in the Frostbacks any longer— he supposed he never had been— but somewhere he didn't recognize. It was mountainous and cold, though the snow was only up to his ankles. A large canyon cracked the earth in two on his right and far, far below a frozen river shone like silk.

He didn't know how far or how long he traveled. His mind grew numb, only aware of the constant, burning pain and the need to put one foot in front of the other. Eventually, he stopped feeling even that. Between one blink and the next he was laying down as tiny lights slowly flickered above him. _Glittering like falling stars_. And the thought made his throat close up and his heart leak from his chest though he couldn't remember why.

At some point, it had grown dark without him noticing. His lashes clung to his cheeks, still wet with snow that dripped into his ears. _Always snowing. I should leave the places with all of the snow._ A shuddering sigh and he was gone.


	3. Part Three

He woke in a bed. His body ached and he was forced to take shallow gulps of air from the pain. Sunlight streamed in through a small window above him and it was warm and bright and so good that Dahny's eyes stung with tears. A thick quilt was pulled up to his waist and Lugh's giant head was keeping his feet extra warm. Taking a shuddering breath, he shut his eyes. _It's over. I'm out._

"Dahny?"

The question was soft and gentle as the hand that gripped his own. He sucked in a breath, biting his tongue as sharp pain burst. His stomach rioted, torn between exultation and terrible fear. _It can't be._ But when he turned his head, it was. Alistair. Alistair alive and sitting in a chair beside him, his shirt tied loose and his feet bootless like he'd seen a thousand times.

Distantly, Dahny could hear Lugh's happy huffs that he was awake and see that Geis had trotted over with a bark but he was consumed entirely by the impossible thing in front of him. Alistair was smiling, radiant, as he carefully brushed the hair from Dahny's forehead before cradling his cheek.

"Maker is it good to see those blue eyes again."

Dahny tried to speak but all that came out was a sad croak and a series of hacking coughs. He did his best to strangle them but it only seemed to make his chest feel worse. _Ow._

Alistair reached over to the bedside table and poured a mug of something from a tea cozy covered kettle. He then helped Dahny take a sip. It was a familiar herbal tea— the kind they often made whenever one of them was ill. Soothingly warm and sweetened with honey, it had a slightly slimy texture and a cooling feel from the elfroot. It felt like home.

"Tell me this is real," he said quietly once the inside of his throat no longer felt like someone had taken a razor to it. "Tell me this isn't the Fade and that you— the _real_ you is actually here."

"Of course I'm the real me. Or, at least, I think I am. Is there some way you're supposed to be able to tell if you are, in fact, the _real you_?"

Dahny smiled weakly. "If this is the Fade, I think I can at least rule out you being a demon. They don't usually opt for making bad jokes when you've told them what you want to hear."

"Unless I'm a particularly clever demon," Alistair drawled and quirked a playful eyebrow.

The look was so _Alistair_ that he laughed despite himself. "I wouldn't think clever demons would find being you all that tempting."

"Oh ouch, you're a cruel one, you know that? Downright vicious." He looked at him with a crooked grin but after a moment it fell into seriousness and he grabbed Dahny's hand. "You're not in the Fade and this is the real me sitting here. I don't know how to prove it to you but I swear that it's the truth."

Dahny looked down at their hands, his pale and bony and almost entirely engulfed by Alistair's. They were darker— tanned— and wider and knobbier but just as recognizable as his own. Scarred and calloused shaped by their struggles. He ran a thumb over one of Alistair's knuckles— a fresh, unfamiliar scar marking the flesh— and tried to decide what was real.

"How are you still alive?" he asked and peered through the dark fringe of hair that was flopping into his eyes.

"I'd like to be able to say it was my unparalleled skill in battle but it was mostly dumb luck, to be honest," Alistair said with a slight shake of his head. "When I fell, the dragon's tail got caught on my armor. It managed to right itself before we both hit the ground and flew up to land on one of the curtain walls. That was right about the time it realized it had a passenger. So, there I was, clinging on for dear life as it tried to shake me off when this absolutely mad qunari decides to take it on. He wasn't even wearing a shirt, as I recall it."

"That would be Iron Bull and he never wears a shirt."

Geis and Lugh finally lost patience and began to nudge his free hand and whimper respectively. Smiling, he began to pet them, switching from one silky head to the other.

"You know, I hadn't noticed."

"You never were all that observant."

"It's strange how often I hear that. 'Alistair, look at this mess. Alistair, watch where you're going. Alistair, I've dropped the platter of cheese.' As if _I'm_ to blame for their clumsiness. Some people are just unbelievable."

Happy warmth was blooming in his belly, unending, as Alistair talked. Dahny couldn't seem to look away. "So, you were saying?"

"Yes, I was. Iron Bull distracted it long enough for me to cut myself loose and jump down to relative safety. The real fight was in trying not to get eaten at that point."

"But you didn't kill it?" Dahny sighed in disappointment. "You really are useless at this sort of thing, aren't you?"

"We-ell," Alistair rolled out the word with a smirk, "I think I vomited on it a few times during the impromptu flight so I'd say that's nearly as good."

"That's disgusting," he said, laughing. "I hope Corypheus was the one to clean it off."

"After weeks of everyone wondering what that horrible smell was, you mean. If we're going to torture our enemies, love, we should do it properly."

Smile fading, Dahny shifted uncomfortably. He felt short of breathe and he needed to change the subject. Now. "Agreed. How long was I...gone?"

The air grew still as Alistair searched his face, his own expression serious. He couldn't meet it for long before he had to look away as his heart pounded with a strange sort of fear. Alistair was silent for moment— _please, just leave it alone_ — before answering him.

"You were in the Fade for nearly five months. You fell out of the rift almost a month ago. It's almost the end of Wintermarch, now."

"Five months," he echoed, disbelieving. Could it really have been that much and yet so little time. It felt like he'd been left in the Fade a yesterday a century ago. "And I only woke up today?"

"The healers said it was for the best. You— Maker's breath, you were a mess, Dahny."

He frowned. "I didn't think it was that bad."

"I was there when they brought you back to Skyhold. It had been days so they'd already patched up the worst of it and it was still something I never want to see again."

"You make it sound like I arrived in pieces," he said, his eyebrows raised.

"Let's not talk about it, alright?" Alistair squeezed his hand. "It doesn't matter now."

"No, I guess it doesn't. You have no idea how relieved I am that you're here."

"Oh, I think I have some idea," Alistair said drily. "You weren't the only one thinking the other was dead, if you recall."

"And here we are. Both alive. I guess we were due some mad luck, after all." Dahny laughed and if it was a little bit hysterical and the dam of tears he'd been holding back crumbled, well, he was okay with that. A warm, thick mabari tongue was licking at his hand reassuringly as his tears flowed. _Don't worry. I'm okay,_ he thought, relieved and so incredibly happy. _I'm better than okay._

"Right." Alistair frowned and moved his hand to cradle the side of Dahny's neck and thumb away some of the wetness on his cheek. "I think I missed the joke."

He shook his head, still grinning and crying, and tugged on Alistair's sleeve. "Come here."

When he leaned forward, Dahny kissed him slow and careful. It was damp and salty but he didn't think he'd ever felt something so wonderful in his life. _I'm home._

* * *

It was a week before he could leave bed and even longer before he had more than a few moments to himself. _Relatively to myself_ , anyway, he thought with a glance at the mabaris hugging his steps. He didn't mind— every second he had with Alistair had become infinitely precious to him and it was comforting to have Geis and Lugh near— but there was something he had to do.

He hadn't told anyone about the spirit that had been Alistair. It was personal and strange and a confused tangle in his gut so he had only said that he'd had help. He'd gotten a few looks for it but he didn't care. He would tell Alistair eventually but for now, he wanted to keep it to himself a little while longer.

Dahny left Geis and Lugh— who grumbled and whined in turns— at the door to the rotunda. Solas was working at his desk but looked up when he walked in.

"Warden Surana," he said. "I was hoping to have the chance to speak with you."

"Hello, Solas." Dahny clasped his hands in front of him. "I had something to ask, actually. I thought that out of everyone, you'd know the answer."

Except for Cole but Dahny had had enough of riddles for awhile.

"It can wait, however, if there's something you want to say," he offered, his voice lilting into a question.

Solas nodded once and politely got up from his chair to stand in front of him.

"Your experience in the Fade was difficult but it was also unique. Much could be learned from it. If you were willing to discuss it?"

Dahny's stomach flipped uncomfortably at the idea but he shook his head. He would probably be itching to interrogate him too, if their positions were reversed. "I wouldn't mind though my memories are muddled in some places. It wasn't that much different from being in the Fade while asleep, honestly."

"Fascinating." Solas shook his head and paced a few steps. "Being physically in the Fade was remarkable enough but to be there for such a length of time."

He twisted his lips into a slightly bitter smile. "You might feel differently if you'd been the one stranded."

"Perhaps," he conceded though something told Dahny that it was only to be civil. "You said you had a question."

"I did. What happens to a spirit when it...dies? I had a—" He shuffled his feet. A what? Alistair doppelganger? "Friend. He— it." He sighed. Did it have to be so complicated? "He helped me find my way out of the Fade. Only he..."

He trailed off, not sure how to describe it or even if he wanted to. _This was a terrible idea_. But Solas didn't seem to mind his fumbling and was giving him a nod of understanding.

"When a spirit dies, the energy that shaped it returns to the Fade. A new spirit may come of it but it is rare. Even if it did, it would not be the one that came before. You would not know it and it would likely not know you."  
"I see." Dahny blinked and looked away. "Thank you."

"It was not the answer you wanted to hear," Solas said and he could hear that it was with true regret. "I am sorry."

"No." He shook his head. "It's alright. I wanted to know."

He mumbled a goodbye— or a thank you or a swear for all he knew— and left.

* * *

That night, Dahny and Alistair were both quiet. He barely noticed the unusual silence as he sat on the bed with his back against the headboard. The room they'd been given was one of the nicer ones at Skyhold and a step up from the tiny room above the garden he'd last slept in. The hearth was large and the healthy fire was a good place to stare at while he thought. Geis was resting his head in his lap and Dahny stroked his ears absently.

Alistair came to sit at the edge of the bed, breaking his unhappy musings. His bootlaces were half undone and shirt untucked and rumpled, making Dahny smile. When Alistair looked at him, however, it was with such an expression of seriousness that his smile evaporated.

"Something wrong?" he asked, nervously curling his fingers into the loose folds of skin around Geis' neck.

"You know that you can always talk to me, right? Whatever you need to say, you can say it. Without question."

"Yes. Of course I do." He hunched his shoulders defensively. "Why are you bringing this up?"

"You've been different, you know. Since you came back from the Fade. You've had me concerned, is all."

His stomach twisted with uncomfortable guilt. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to feel sorry about." And then he smiled. "Unless you ate that wedge of expensive cheese I've been saving. I expect of a lifetime of thorough atonement, if that's the case."

"Sorry," Dahny said, relaxing, "you'll have to find someone else to carry your filthy socks."

"Figured out my scheme, have you? And here I thought I was being so clever." Alistair became serious again. "Just...I love you, always."

"I know. I love you, too. It's not that I don't want to tell you."

He chewed on his cheek, struggling to find what to say. If he should say anything, at all. The words felt heavy in his chest. They have for weeks— heavy and muddled and as suffocating as hands around his throat. Put there by something horrible that wanted to hurt him. He wanted them gone.

"Some of it—" he took a shaky breath and started over. "They...tortured me. I wake up afraid, all the time, and I have to remind myself of things to keep from screaming."

"Like what?" Alistair prompted gently.

"That I'm not still there, mostly." Dahny's hands were clenched in his lap, his nails digging into his palms as bright points of pain. "I have to remember that I never dreamed there even when it seemed like I slept. That people in the Fade always act like you expect them to but here," a small, shy smile managed to work its way onto his lips, "even the people you know best can surprise you."

"Is that what you were thinking about?"

"No, I—" He hesitated, the words like a stone in his throat. Alistair hadn't moved to touch him and he was grateful for it. If he touched him, Dahny didn't think he could get the words out. That they would burrow in and stay forever. "There was a spirit. In the Fade. I think— I think it formed when you went over the bridge at Adamant."

"Tell me what happened."

And so he did. He told him about the dark place the Nightmare put him in. About how a spirit that wasn't Alistair—but _was_ — had rescued him. How he'd forgotten that he was in the Fade and that Alistair was only a spirit. That they had gone to the rift but Nightmare had found them.

"And I watched you—" Dahny stuttered and swallowed heavily. "It died for me, Alistair. It died so that I could be safe. And it's like—" He took a shuttering breath and hid his face behind his hand as tears slipped from his eyes. "It's like you died, too."

"I didn't die. I'm right here," Alistair murmured his voice thick. "I'm right here."

"I know! But he— he was you in all the ways that mattered and he _did_."

Then Alistair was hugging him as he choked out a sob, quiet and pained. A sound like Nightmares upon nightmares and _loss_ , all just spilling out of him. Alistair was talking into his ear— low and steady— and his arms were around him and it was warm and safe and real.

After a minute, Dahny pulled away and dried his face with his sleeve. Geis was licking at his ear and whining in distress so he took a moment to pet him soothingly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry on you that way."

Alistair smiled, his own eyes reddened and damp. "It's amazing how often people do that on me. Random strangers will just throw themselves at me and start bawling so often that it hardly makes an impression anymore. Funny the things you get used to."  
Dahny laughed, loud and unrestrained. He felt so light that he thought he'd almost float off the ground. _It's done. It's over. They can't hurt me anymore._

"Oh, and by the way," he said, trying to tame the grin that tugged at his lips. "I lied about eating the cheese."

"That is why I've kept a secret stash." Crossing his arms across his chest, Alistair gave him a smug look. "Did you truly think that after all these years, I didn't anticipate your inevitable betrayal? Ha!"

"No," the grin broke free, brilliant as the sun, "and that's why I ate the secret stash, too."

"Hey!"

Laughter burst forth again at the expression of pure outrage. Dahny leaned forward and pressed his lips to the scowl that darkened Alistair's mouth.

"I'll get you back for this. Next time the kitchens have that one pastry you like, I'm going to make certain you don't get any," he promised, refusing to relax his scowl. "Just you wait."

Dahny kept kissing him as Alistair slowly began to soften until he reached up to hold Dahny's face and deepened the kiss. Dahny smiled as something warm and loving unfurled in his chest. _You can have every last pastry in Thedas_ , he thought. _As long as you're with me._

* * *

_9:44 Dragon, one month after Corypheus' defeat_

Dahny looked around at Skyhold as he waited, watching the hustle and bustle of daily life that was a constant at the fortress. A warm breeze rustled the trees and stirred his hair. Geis and Lugh were with him, alert and almost vibrating with excitement. It had been a dull month for them and they were looking forward to the weeks of travel ahead. He decided that while he was just as ready to move on, he would miss the place that had become something like a home.

Alistair came out of the stables, leading two saddled horses by the reins. They were gifts from the Inquisitor; for assisting in Corypheus' defeat, she had said, but he knew it was less a gift and more of a not-so-subtle boot out the door. He couldn't blame her. That gown Geis and Lugh had ruined had looked very expensive and going by the Orlesian's wailing, a spilled goblet of wine was the diplomatic disaster of the age. His laughing about it hadn't improved things either, he was sure.

Alistair stopped the horses and nodded at the grey one on the left. "Ready to go?"

Grimacing, he looked at his horse— who was looking right back at him with what he would swear was a glint of mischief— and sighed. _Whatever you're scheming, you better think of the treats it'll cost you, you little bastard._ The horse flicked his ears and neighed in such a way that it almost sounded like laughter.

"Yes," Dahny said, "but would you mind if I rode the other one? Mine looks more suited to...not me."

Which meant that the beast looked like it was grinning and planning to unleash as much chaos as a single horse could. Alistair's horse, by comparison, looked half asleep and about as crafty as a particularly ambitious bread mold.

"Sorry but I've grown quite attached to her in the five minutes we've been together. And besides," he smirked, "the Inquisitor picked out Merlot here just for you, I was told. She even named her for you. Wasn't that nice?"

_A 'thank you', my ass_. He glared as Alistair chuckled and then threw one at the grinning mabari at his feet for good measure. None of them were intimidated in the slightest.

"Downright gracious," he muttered as he started to boost himself into the saddle. 'Merlot' stayed still just long enough for him to get a foot in the stirrup then began to dance, trying to throw him off-balance mid hop. But Dahny had anticipated it and compensated, swinging himself up with only a slight wobble. The horse grunted begrudgingly as it settled down and he gave the top of its head a smug smile. _Round one to me._

"You sure you want to come with me?" he asked as Alistair adjusted the saddlebags on his own horse. The lead Alistair had been chasing when he'd been captured by the Wardens was drifting further and further away as the months passed. If it wasn't gone already. "I can handle those wanking bastards at Weisshaupt on my own, you know."

"Still trying to get rid of me?" Alistair gave his horse a quick pat then mounted up. "Well, I'm not going to make it that easy for you. I'm afraid your stuck with me for the next eighty or so years."

They began to ride, heading for Skyhold's gates, and Dahny scoffed. "I'm sure I can drive you away before then."

Geis and Lugh let out a chorus of barks and bounded ahead of them, scattering a flock of finches that had been foraging in the grass.

"Something tells me you're not up to the challenge. I've been called both thick and bullheaded more than once,"Alistair chuckled. "Among a number of other, less flattering things."

"None of which are true."

"Of course not!"

They passed beneath the first portcullis and Dahny looked over his shoulder at the fortress. The grey stone was bright under the sunlight and Inquisition flags snapped in the breeze. From one of the parapets, Cole was watching them leave so he waved a goodbye and smiled slightly as Cole returned it. He turned back to Alistair.

"I'm glad you're with me," he told him.

Alistair looked at him, eyes soft and smiling, and a warm glow spread through Dahny as if Alistair was the sun.

"Always."


End file.
